


Breaking Down the Mind

by Sapphire_Ruby



Category: jacksepticeye
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22131760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_Ruby/pseuds/Sapphire_Ruby
Summary: What is more fun than watching those septic traitors rot? Better than trying to convert them? Torture their minds until they can't tell what's real and what's not. Making them doubt the lives they once had. Watching them squirm and willingly submit themselves without even having to ask for it.Breaking down their mind until it can be molded into something useful.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. Mind Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, observation. What fun things can he find in their minds?

Every mind had the same structure. The garden, the decaying edges, and the wall. All containing the memories and experiences. And able to trigger with just the right touch and intrusion. Deliciously simple.

Though, without surprise, the wall was Antisepticeye’s favourite place to go. Sure the things trapped away behind were all good and fun. Inspiration, pleasure, pain, madness, insanity — his own version of a garden. But the barrier. Breaking down the barrier was always different, always fun.

The doctor was... disappointing to say the least. His was a twelve foot tall gate with ornate iron bars surrounding the isolated area. Something akin to what one would see in front of a mansion. There was a single chain wrapped around the gate to keep it closed, but no lock on it. A simple untangling and tossing and he was in. Pity. All it really had was gravestones. Most likely just the people whom he couldn’t save. Anti didn’t bother reading any names, just moved on for another challenge.

The hero was a little more creative. Thick glass wall with no sign of entry, just a window looking in. The silent scene locked away was a madhouse of chaos, thousands of people running and screaming, dirty, bruised, bleeding, broken, like it had been a major disaster. Anti smiled at the nameless victims whom he was unable to help. And with a single touch, he started a crack, radiating outward and making those squeaks and creaks as the glass tried desperately to stay intact. Then, Shatter. And the screams of everyone running around.

The depressed dad was intriguing, but not much of a challenge. A large vault door. Only Anti didn’t get the pleasure of cracking into the safe. Apparently, Chase had already cut out the locking mechanism; all that was keeping the door closed was the sheer weight of it. Inside there was shouting and arguing, the sound of things crashing around. Dull. Even though lights hung along the impossibly long hallway contained within the vault, everything was shrouded in darkness. He could make out two shadowy figures fighting in the middle of one scene. Looked like the aggressor was throwing a table, then landed a punch, knocking the other to the ground. Maybe not so boring after all. And then there was the unmistakable BANG, echoing from far back in the hallway, multiplying to ten rings as it bounced forward. Anti smiled his toothy grin. Looks like he would have to come back for those ones later. 

The magician had a few tricks up his sleeve, or rather in his mind. There was this blank patch in his garden. Unmistakably where the wall should have been — different in look, texture, and overall feel from the surroundings. Seems he had erased it from its existence. A fantastic attempt to hide from Anti, but far from perfect. Especially with traces of his magic lingering in its place. Such a novice. Anti let his hand skim a strand of the free flowing particles dancing around. Easy enough to pick up the signature of the spell, and child’s play to reverse it. Took a mere snap of his fingers once he figured it out. And back it all was. Anti standing in the middle of a decrepit basement, torches along the curved walls. Circular room with bookshelves and cells, paper and jars with ingredients, a cauldron, and what had to be his old familiar. Not the most proper of caverns, but well enough for a dark lord.

And finally, there was the small man. Unassuming in nature and stature. Perhaps it was because he was silent, something Anti hadn’t inflicted upon him unfortunately. His garden was flourishing it seemed, and the edges of decay not encroaching at all. But this felt... wrong. No visible wall. Surely he had to have something. Everyone had something. Teleporting to the decrepit edges, Anti wandered in search of it, and in a few steps, smacked into it. Moving his hands around, it felt like brick, but looking at it, it was just one solid wall masked as the natural surrounding. “What are you hiding....” Anti thought aloud, feeling the wall once more to get a better idea of it.

He walked along its length, keeping a hand on it to feel for any deviation, any door. A full circle and no change. The entity of who Jameson was was encased within the wall. Even the top was this strange stone substance. Gripping around one of the bricks, Anti tried pulling with inhuman strength, but the grout between was too strong and held it in place.

Tip tap, tip tap, chip, chop, chip, chop, scrape away at it, try and degrade it. Cheat a bit and use some magic to disassemble the molecules and have the piece fall to dust. And finally it was gone. There was another layer beneath it. But something leaked out. A trail of yellow magic. It brushed Anti and he felt his body glitch and teleport out into the real world again, against his own will. Daylight. Snow behind the window pane atop the cell. This couldn’t have been right. It was different than how Antisepticeye had left. And Jameson was still there, still the same. Unconscious, head down, clothes dirty and torn.

Bending down, he lifted back the ego’s head to look into his face. Weary and weak. “What is behind your wall....” he mused, trying to analyze him, find the difference between him and the others. No one was like that. No person he had ever encountered. A most intriguing character apparently, with bigger barriers than he had thought possible.


	2. Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With no easy repressed memory to taunt JJ with, Anti has to get a little…. creative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: surgery, blood, guts, medical-ness

Jamie was suddenly awake, eyes opened up to a blinding white. He quickly shut them tight and moved to cover his eyes with his hand. Only, his hand wasn’t moving. He tried picking his neck up to see what was going on, but that wasn’t working either. Arms, nothing, legs, nothing. It felt like he was just a floating head with no body.

Opening his eyes, he strained look at his surroundings. Trays, lights, drapes, machines, blood, blue. Looking as far down as he could, he couldn’t make out any of his body, but he saw hands. Bloody hands.

“Oh, you’re awake.” The man’s accent wasn’t that thick, but it was there. Always there. One of the ways he knew which brother it was. “Well, this should be fun.” Henrik had a mask on, but Jamie could see the smile underneath it. Twisted and turned all about; it made his skin turn ice cold.

Then there was a squishing sound and Jamie could have sworn his whole stomach was being ripped to shreds. He squeezed his eyes shut in some feeble attempt to block out the pain. but that didn’t help. Trapped, stuck in this endless torment. He wanted to scream, thrash, move, do  _ Something! _ but all that he could do was cry. It was too much for his mind to handle, and it was crying out the only way it could. “Ah! See?” Jamie felt a small bit of relief as the pain subsided from stabs to just a general aching feeling. “Look at that perfect liver!” Henrik was holding a dark red mass in his hands, almost like he was presenting it to Jamie. “Perfectly healthy, since you never were one to drink, Jameson,” the doctor commented, winking at his patient and setting the red mass to the side. “Now let’s see, what should we do next, hm?”

Jamie tried to shake his head, mouth the word ‘no,’ move something– anything to get Henrik to stop what he was doing. Begging with wide eyes that Henrik would realize the horrors of his actions, but he wouldn’t stop. “The in-test-ines...” Henrik mused, pulling them out like a magician pulls out an endless handkerchief. It felt like a snake was slithering around inside of Jamie’s body. “Hm, kidneys.” There was a massive yank that felt like his spine was being ripped out through his abdomen. “All these tiny,”  **Rip** , “useless,”  **tear** , “ones,”  **sssccrape** . Jamie could feel his heart beating quicker and his face sweating. How much more of this would he have to endure before he would simply die? Why was Henrik doing this to him? Why was he having so much fun with it?

“Now, on to the fun ones.” A glint of light shined off the scalpel. Jamie closed his eyes before he felt this.... violation of his chest. It wasn’t just the cutting of his skin, but the blood vessels being ripped open, nerves destroyed, his bones being cracked apart and shrapnel landing in his chest cavity. “Ah, which lung first Jamie? Right or left?”  _ Neither. None of this. Stop. Please Henrik. _ “Beh, it does not matter.” The knife descended, and Jamie could feel when the doctor cut his trachea. It felt like he was choking on something and his heart was starting to beat even faster than before.

He’d been scared before, plenty of times. Usually concerning his brothers’ well-being. But never really about himself. Because Jamie always controlled what happened to him. But this... there was no control, no sense of doing anything. He’d never been near to death. Closest he got was when he found out that Chase nearly died. At the time, he couldn’t imagine what Chase was feeling, only his own fear; now he understood. Terror. Desperation. The instinct to do whatever possible to cling to life. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Mmm, strong heart too.” The sound got further as Schneep pulled back and Jamie saw the bloody, beating heart in his hand. “Hopefully someone more deserving will get it.” The doctor started to walk away, turning the bright OR lights off and plunging Jamie into darkness.

Choking, losing heat, feeling like nothing was left inside of him. Jamie could still feel the water sliding down his cheeks. It didn’t feel like it would ever end. He tried to focus on that. Something that was still alive in him while his brain was slowing turning off different parts. It was far too much for him to try and handle, but if he closed his eyes, he would never wake up. A small sound escaped his throat. Maybe a cry of pain, or desperation, or fear. But then he felt a final spark. Eyes frozen, looking up at the faded light of the lamp above. Mouth agape, eyes open wide, filled with dread and shock.

And then he woke up. On the floor of a cell. Jameson felt his body, checking that everything was there and he wasn’t actually open. His heart was still racing. Stilled filled with fear and panic. And now, just the tiniest bit more afraid of his loving brother.


	3. Maze of Magic

Running. Marvin had to run as fast as he could. There wasn’t much time. Surely Anti would have sensed his lock-picking spell. He had to find the others — rescue all of them. But he couldn’t figure out this maze and fight Anti at the same time. One of the rules of fighting: if you’re losing a fight, change the rules so you have the advantage. Jackie’s rules worked better for Jackie though. Marvin, he needed more time, or to freeze time so he could search. But that kind of spell was dangerous at best... and reality-shattering at worst. Maybe if he had one of his brothers to help, they could gather the others while Marvin worked on holding back this demon; he was the only one that had any hope of blocking Anti’s mental attacks and intrusions.

Casting a quick locator, a ball of bright green appeared and went zooming down the corridor, leaving a small trail of sparkles that only Marvin could see. It would take him to the brother closest to him. Down the corridor, twisting and turning, until it stopped at a brick wall. Feeling around, Marvin was looking for a secret button, or a hidden compartment, something to move it, tell him that his brother was behind the wall and not inside of it. And then he felt it — the difference. Smooth and then suddenly rough. It was a wall alright, but a fake wall. One thought, _aperiam_ , and a flick of a wrist, and the wall collapsed in on itself into a pile of dust. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

But Marvin had to work quickly. Using this much magic, Anti **had** to have noticed by now. Stepping into the dark room, he struggled to see anyone. His eyes adjusted quickly, slowly revealing a small crumple of a man in a hoodie cowering in the corner. “Jackie!” Marvin rushed over to him. The superhero looked up at his brother, but not with the same face he had. It was paler and had more cuts and scrapes on it. His eyes weren’t full of that spark that burned deep inside him, but more of a dam holding everything back. How long had he been here? “We have to get out of here,” Marvin implored, tugging at Jackie’s wrists to try and lift him up. They were ice cold, and didn’t have that same power coursing through them like before. What had Anti done to him?

“Please, no,” Jackie protested, pulling back with some remnants of his super strength; Marvin could feel slivers of it coursing through Jackie’s veins.

“What do you mean no?” Marvin was more forceful, borrowing some of that strength through a simple transfer. He got Jackie to his feet, then broke the connection — he never did like doing swaps. “He has us, ALL of us. Henrik, Chase, _Jameson_! I’m not leaving them here, but I need your help to get them out.” Fear crept along Marvin’s spine. It wasn’t a new feeling, but he’d never been afraid that Jackie couldn’t– wouldn’t do anything.

“I can’t,” Jackie replied weakly, throwing his arms down, out of Marvin’s grasp. “If I try to save any of you, he’ll–” But he quickly shut his mouth before he could finish, his whole body tensing up, keeping it locked away. Jackie blinked a couple of times and a single tear slipped out the corner of his eye and rolled down the side of his face. Marvin’s whole body grew softer as he made a couple of inferences. Jackie _was_ saving them, or at least what he thought was saving them.

“I promise you, I won’t let that happen.” Jackie’s hand slowly came down and grabbed Marvin’s.

“You’d better.” Jackie tried to smirk, but it fell quickly. He couldn’t joke about how easy it was this time. When it came to saving lives, some things weren’t so trivial to the hero, and nothing would be easy this time round.

Then Marvin felt himself being torn away, pulled back, fingers slipping past each other’s hands. Cold. Prickling and cold. And then metal. “Y͖͆ō̰u̢͆ ̝̍t̑ͅĥ͓̘̥̈́̄ọ̧̳̓͋͛ǔ̡̲̔̅g̹͠h̭̚t͎̊ ̊itͅ’̅d̛ ̨͘b͌e̺͛ ̣͊t͍̑ḩ̋a̱̒t̬̕ ͎͆e̖a̫͐s̮̳͚̈́̋̕y͎̦̝̌̿̒?” Antisepticeye taunted. That’s when he shifted, establishing more dominance. Wrapping an arm around Marvin’s abdomen, pinning his arms to his side and pressing the knife in further so that it was digging in as he breathed. There wasn’t blood, yet, but that wasn’t far behind. Jackie was... stepping back, hands up defensively. Head bent down, arms crumpled in towards his chest, knees bent. Everything making himself... smaller, non-threatening. This... wasn’t — couldn’t be Jackie. Not his superhero brother.

“P-please. I-I’m sorry. Just, don’t hurt him,” Jackie managed, his voice wobbling.

“F̻̕ő̠r͈ ̩̈w̧͊ȟ̫ạ̏ť̲.̖̃..͛” Anti pulled Marvin in closer and wiggled the tip of the knife, making a tiny prick so a drop of blood stained Marvin’s skin. 

“For trying to leave.” Jackie lowered himself so that he was kneeling. 

“Ą̠͐̔n̖̳͐́d̞͎̈́̓.͓̾͘ͅ.̔͗.͆” Anti taunted, dragging the knife ever so slowly across, making a small line of exposed red.

“I’ll be. . . a loyal puppet.” Jackie, a man that stood as a protector, bowed his head down to the floor. “Please,” he whimpered. “Just. . .” Marvin had never heard Jackie cry before. It was... wrong. Everything about this felt so wrong. This false Jackie, the knife being so sharp yet not causing any pain, the static blood in— wait.

Two words popped into his mind. “ _Debilito dolorem!_ ” Marvin shouted before his conscious mind could translate. Anti’s arms flew off Marvin, and he took the chance to escape towards his brother. “Come on!” Marvin had to drag Jackie up off the floor, fight whatever protests would come. Then his mind finally started processing what had happened. “Jackie, he can’t move. Can’t hurt us. Look!” Marvin looked over to where he had been. Anti was glitching out, moving around frantically, but always on the ground. Arms contracted, and gripping, like he was in pain. It looked like he was screaming, but there was only static, growing louder and louder. He didn’t know if his brother was looking or not, but it was obvious that their captor wasn’t in a state to hurt them. Jackie didn’t cause as much trouble getting out after that.

Outside the cell, Marvin sealed Anti in with one word, “ _Munio_ ,” and the wall that had locked Jackie in was back up. “That should hold him.” Hopefully. Anti couldn’t teleport, not in the state that he was in. Not in that body. But if he had contingencies...

“Run.” Marvin took Jackie’s wrist, and started running, not letting them stop. “Who are we rescuing first?” Marvin called back.

“Chase!” Jackie yelled. There was a certain strength in his voice again. A command. There he was– there was that hero he knew. The locator took the feeling and ran with it, giving Marvin a path in this maze.

“Got him!” It was set to locate Chase, but the spell could sense any of his brothers. Hopefully this would go quickly.

“Marvin, what did you do to him back there?!”

“I’ll tell you later.” Their mission was to save their brothers, but Marvin’s mind came up with the answer anyway. Paralyzed. Paralyzed in pain. It was a spell he’d worked on a long time ago to try and help Jackie in his fights. But he decided that it was too dangerous to ever be used. So he. . .

Marvin came to a screeching halt, causing Jackie to run into him and have the pair tumble over onto the ground. He was aware of his surroundings, but not fully taking them in. “It was... locked away.” Marvin gripped the sides of his head, and started trying to think, hard. Real hard.

“Marvin, we have to go!” Jackie tried pulling up his brother, but the magician was like a one-ton rock.

“It was locked away.” Marvin turned to look up at Jackie, a sad truth now gripping him. Now he was the one that had lost the hope of escape. “I’m so sorry.”

He blinked, and was back in his cell. Tracing where the knife was, he didn’t feel any blood. At least that part wasn’t real. Staring down at his hand, he summoned his magic to the surface, making it expose itself. Little swirls and smoke lines made of mint green sparkles and emerald lines. Dropping his hand, he let himself rest back against the floor. Good. It was still good. But that was the only relief he was going to get now. Anti had made a dream state. And it took Marvin a while to realize it too. His only clue was that spell. Which meant that Anti had unravelled his protection seal. His mind wasn’t safe anymore. And if he was made to keep using those forbidden spells, his brothers wouldn’t be either.


	4. Say It, Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little peak into one memory that Chase keeps locked away in his not-so-secure mental vault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: suicide, hospital

“Hi Mr. Brody,” the woman said softly, carefully closing the door behind her. “I’m Dr. Dupont. Do you mind if I sit here and talk with you for a bit?” The doctor quietly took a seat in one of the chairs in the hospital room. Her clipboard was laying flat on her lap at the moment, but she held it tight with her right hand, ready to bring it up to a comfortable writing position.

“Do whatever you like?” Chase was stretched out on the cheap hospital mattress. They never were that comfy, but they would do in a pinch. He was lying flat on his back, letting the hand with his admittance band around it fall off the edge. His characteristic hat was sitting on the table next to the bed, along with the water it looked like he hadn’t touched. “Not like it’ll make a difference.”

“Why do you say that?” That got him to roll his head to the side to look at her finally. But then he went back to the ceiling.

“You have to have read my file. You tell me.”

Mr. Brody was a patient that actually had a file at the hospital, not something that was typical for an incoming patient. But, he’d been there before. ER nurses had gotten to actually know him. “Can we talk about why you’re here today?”

“Suicide watch.” The words simply rolled off his tongue. “And you’re here to evaluate whether I’m a credible threat to my life or not.” He turned his head to look at her. “Am I wrong?” His eyes looked sunken, dark.

“Right.” There were so many questions she could have asked. She settled on, “How are you planning on doing it?”

Chase brought his arm up, then lifted his upper half so that he was now sitting on the bed, legs hanging off the side. “Gun.” He started stroking the inside of his left wrist with his thumb. “Make it quick and painless.”

“I see.” She actually could see more than that. The scars on his wrist, barely white. “Painless.”

“I’ve just been trying to get up the nerve. Thought it would have been a week ago, but...” Chase looked at her, but then put his cap on and looked down, shielding his face from her view. “You can’t second guess once you’ve fired a gun.”

“Are you having second guesses?” Hope was something that was powerful, even if buried deep.

“No,” he gave a little chuckle and finally let go of his left hand, gripping the side of the bed instead. “Just a change in plan I guess. Because,” he sniffled, wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve. “Everyone says that your body and mind are always fighting when you’re at your weakest. Never thought that it was so literal.” He broke out in another kind of sad laugh. “A gun....” he trailed off, starting to let himself cry.

Dr. Dupont let him cry. Crying meant that Chase was feeling something so much that that’s all his body could do was cry to feel better. “You’re body is fighting back, against your suicide attempts,” she eventually said, rephrasing his own words to mean something better.

“If.. you want to... be so optimistic bout it,” he pieced together, trying to get a handle on his voice. “Don’t get why I’m fighting something I want when I couldn’t– ... couldn’t...” He was trying to be a man about it, not let himself break down. Didn’t save his shirt from being soaked in tears and snot.

“Can you tell me why you want to kill yourself? In your own time.” She let the pad rest for a moment. Patients always wanted to try and compose themselves, show that they’re not a mess, when inside that exactly what’s happening.

“Life would just be easier if I wasn’t here.” Chase brought his legs onto the bed and scooched back so he could sit cross legged. He was trying to look anywhere but at her.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I have a penchant for ruining things and being an utter failure.” Chase left a silence open for her to comment about how that wasn’t true, but that didn’t happen. Waiting for him to elaborate, maybe. What did it matter, he wouldn’t ever see her again? Wouldn’t have a file soon enough. “My marriage is over because I was too reckless and immature for her. She took the kids and disappeared so now I can’t even see them anymore. Not like I was ever really there for them to begin with. Too much time drinking, trying to cope with my marriage falling apart, avoiding all any fights that I avoided being home and neglected them too. Can’t get a stable job or income. I’m living on my brother’s couch

“And I know he’s just doing it because he has this strong notion about keeping family together. But honestly, I know that he thinks– they all think I’m the screw-up of the lot. I was through childhood; never could do anything right. Why would adulthood be any different?” Chase was burying his head in his hands, trying to hide from the world. He didn’t like being like this — feeling so useless and like such a burden. At least only a stranger was seeing this, and not Jameson, or Henrik, or god-forbid Jackie with his hero-complex. “Some people just aren’t worth saving. Don’t want to be saved.” Chase curled up into a ball and laid down. “I’m not worth saving.... I don’t want to be saved...” he muttered into his clothing.

The person across the room stood up, and then walked out, making sure Chase could hear the door shut behind them. But the man didn’t move, just stayed on the floor, crying. Because that’s what he would have done.

Dr. Dupont’s questions were what kept him from collapsing into himself. But Dr. Dupont wasn’t there. Just a brilliant illusion, a perfect re-creation of the environment. It was buried in Chase’s mental vault, but easily restored by Antisepticeye. Brought out for a time before being placed back inside for safe keeping. The glitch laughed a little to himself, listening to the cries as he walked away. His plan was coming along quite nicely. Just needed a little bit of luck, and some key memories. Luck for him, Chase never really sealed anything in his vault, just gave himself that illusion.


	5. Rescue Effort

Rumbling.

Dust.

Smoke.

Alarms. 

Jackie didn’t know what had happened, but it had to be bad.

Rushing, flying over.

He tried to keep a perimeter, but the cloud was moving too fast for him to stop in time. Flecks and bits of debris flying right into him, clogging up his lungs, making him blindly head up and away. He’d passed through a cloud on the way up enough to gently clear his suit (and make him twenty degrees colder). Coughing to try and get a breath of fresh air, rubbing his eyes to try and restore his sight. Recovering himself before recovering others.

Finally stable enough again, he gently descended, trying to survey the scene while keeping himself safe. Sirens, finally. Maybe he could borrow a suit from a fire-fighter again.

A building. Crushed into rubble now. Search and rescue.

Jackie floated around towards the side as the dust plume started settling. Tall building. Multiple buildings. Which only meant more people. He tried to focus up, think about what he could– should do. Pedestrians. Get a perimeter. Top layers would have the greatest chance for survivors. Maybe clear away debris. Get people to EMTs, then leave. Help as many as you can. . . . He waited until there was only a fog-like essence to the air, not clear of contaminants, but at least not moving outwards.

First thing he did was a slow fly-by, telling people to stay back. He would have moved everyone he saw away from the scene, especially those lying unconscious, but he’d learned doing that could injure the person even more. Counting. He could count, and give whoever were the  _ first _ first responders a count of all visible survivors.

Next was to do a second lap, helping those who could walk move towards safety. Tell them to wait for a paramedic in the beginning. Once there was a triage setup, he directed them there. Did double communication of telling victims where to go and responders where to find them. Make things go faster.

As the fire engines started arriving, he finally got to work in the rubble. They’d given him equipment, what Jackie considered essentials. A mask to help him see and breathe, a flashlight, a watch, a sharpie, and tags. Four colors: green, yellow, red, and black. It was his job to scout and find as many people as possible. Try not to move anything for fear of a secondary collapse (fire captain’s orders). Anyone he found got a tag, and hopefully marked with their heart rate. The bright colored tags were for injuries, red being the worst. The black... Well, . It let the rescuers who followed behind him know who wasn’t their main priority. Jackie tried to keep count of all the cards he used, but stopped after a consistent pattern was forming.

It was always so relieving to find someone beneath the concrete, still breathing. Uplifting to find a pulse. He counted the colored tags. At least it would give the paramedics some hope that was quickly draining from this situation.

The dead. . . Jackie justified his efforts by telling himself that they weren’t lost anymore. Found people were still important. Important to someone. Someone that was there for them. He gave each one of them his time. And a few words. An, “I’m so sorry,” or “you will be missed,” repeated over and over and over and over. . . . They deserved better than what had happened.

Rooms within pockets of preserved space, getting riskier, more fragile as he journeyed further in. Getting darker in every sense. Fighting to find another ray of any sort of light. And then it was there. Faint. Much lower than normal. But pulsing. Face covered in dust, but brush that away and there was red beneath. Rosy, and warmer than the air around, even if only by a slight bit. It was so soft though, and he could hear the shallow wheezing. No more waiting. It would take any rescuer that wasn’t him hours to get down here. She wouldn’t last that long.

There was a beam across her abdomen, and Jackie effortlessly lifted it up and flipped it over. It crashed down with a thud, and the ground slipped out from underneath him. For a split second, he was falling, but then he was floating again. For a mere moment.

Opening his eyes, the scene before him was indistinguishable from when his eyes were shut. Everything around him was cold. His face was pressed into the ground, and he could feel his body being crushed by cement structures. Much heavier than one single beam. He tried to rotate his shoulder, bring his hand to his face, but it was impossible — like trying to fit your hand through a gap too small for it. Crawling out would be no good either then. All that was left was to try and push up and out.

Bracing his hands and legs against the floor, Jackie pushed against everything holding him down. Ignoring the pain, visualizing it all just breaking, crack propagating through every layer. Telling his body to lift up, fly away, burst through. There were creaks, but the most Jackie managed was enough to slide an arm out into the open before being forced back onto the floor. Whether he was just tired, or he had reached his strength’s limit, Jackie wasn’t sure. One thing was certain though, he wasn’t getting out anytime soon.

He tried listening for other sounds. There wasn’t anymore wheezing besides his own sputters when the dust got into his lungs. Sometimes there were small rocks falling and hitting other structures on the way down. But silent otherwise. No one would be coming anytime soon. Trying to keep warm, Jackie made attempts to move body parts around. But with pinned joints, all he could get were muscle contractions, and even then he wasn’t sure the signals were reaching. Everything was just feeling immense pressure, and there was no real feeling anymore. Trying to move gave him something to do though. Keep from going unconscious, and maybe keep his blood pumping, some vain attempt to stay warm.

Inside the cell, Anti stood over this hero. Pinned down by nothing but his imagination, activating his muscles, wasting energy in this sleep-state. But, this was a good start to it. Let him marinate in the hope that someone was coming for him. Anti even opened the door and let some light in. Frozen for a minute or two, before slamming it shut, plunging the room back into darkness.


End file.
